Me and You and the Terrible Twos
by ArwenLalaith
Summary: Sequel to Baby and Me and You. A year and a half of living together and raising children later, things are starting to get complicated. And messy...but that's mostly the kids' fault.
Declan was wailing an impressive imitation of being tortured to death from his spot in the timeout chair.

Emily, however, was immune to the capricious tempers of two year olds, having somehow navigated her daughter through the terrible twos relatively unscathed. Besides, she had her own problem trying to keep Charlotte from sticking her fingers into the cake batter. She had already ruined the first attempt by sneezing into the bowl and Emily was determined not to have to make a third.

"Lottie, if you don't stop sticking your fingers in there, then you can go sit in timeout with Declan and I'll finish making the cake alone," Emily warned, batting tiny hands away from the bowl.

"No, Mommy!" Charlotte whined, "I want to help!"

"Then put on your listening ears. We want to surprise Da-Ian, so we have to finish before he gets home." Emily often found herself having to stop herself from calling Ian 'Daddy' in front of Charlotte. After a year and a half of helping look after Declan while Ian was at work, it had become something of a second nature to call him Daddy in front of the boy. But she didn't want Charlotte getting attached and she _definitely_ didn't want her thinking of him as a father figure only to have her heart broken when they finally got on their own two feet and he wasn't in their lives anymore.

Declan's angry cries had finally started to fade into sobs and whimpers as his temper tantrum burned itself out. Emily handed the spoon to Charlotte with instructions to stir the batter and went to kneel in front of the boy.

"Are you ready to say sorry to me?" she asked.

He hiccuped and his bottom lip wobbled pitifully, but he nodded. Emily opened her arms and he launched himself into them, wrapping his arms around her neck and squeezing as tight as his little arms allowed. "Sorry," he mumbled into her neck.

"Do you want to help make Daddy's birthday cake?" she asked, wiping the boy's snot off her neck. And just like that, all thoughts of pouting and temper tantrums vanished into thin air.

* * *

"There's frosting in your ear!" Emily exclaimed with exasperation. "How is there frosting in your _ear_?"

Her response was a wave of water sloshing over the side of the bathtub and two delighted squeals. Emily groaned, looking down at her now see-through t-shirt. With a sigh, she pulled the shirt over her head and wrung it out, tossing it into the laundry hamper.

"Generally, people outside the bathtub aren't supposed get wetter than the people _inside_ the tub," she informed the two toddlers with a quirked brow. They seemed to find that hilarious.

"Mommy, don't forget to wash Gargy!" Charlotte shouted over the din of splashing. "Gargy has frosting in his BUTT!"

Emily rolled her eyes. "Charlotte, don't be rude." Charlotte was at the age where she was pushing boundaries and butts were the height of humor. "I'm not cleaning frosting out of anyone's butt." Under her breath, she added, "File that under things I never thought I'd have to say..."

"Gargy said it first," Charlotte retorted.

"Gargy!" Declan echoed.

Emily shook her head. "Well, Gargy isn't my responsibility." Gargy was Charlotte's imaginary friend and a constant source of aggravation who was 'responsible' for all of Charlotte's bad behaviour. "If Gargy can't be polite and follow the rules, he's not allowed to come over any more."

Charlotte went back to playing with her collection of rubber ducks and Emily turned her attention to Declan's sticky hair. He wasn't a big fan of having his hair washed and fought through the entire process.

"I don't know why I let you two help decorate the cake," Emily muttered to herself, "The entire kitchen is stickier than the floor of a waffle house. Your Daddy is gonna kill me."

"Oh, I'd never do that, Love...good help is so hard to find," a deep voice chuckled from the bathroom doorway, startling Emily.

At the sound of Ian's voice, both children started chattering and splashing excitedly – thoroughly drenching Emily once again – competing for his attention.

"How long have you been standing there?" Emily asked, once her heart rate returned to normal.

"Since somewhere around frosting and butts," he said, trying very hard to keep a straight face.

A flush crept across Emily's cheeks. "I should just write you a cheque now for all the therapy Declan's going to need because my kid is a _terrible_ influence..." A loud farting noise came from the bathtub followed by raucous laughter and without missing a beat, Emily said, "If that noise didn't come from a toy, someone better excuse themselves." She looked at Ian with a raised brow as if to say _'can you believe these two?'_

Ian shrugged, but was trying to hide a smirk. He knelt down beside the tub to say hello to the children. "Judging by the small flood on the floor, I'm guessing you got caught in the line of fire?" he asked as he unbuttoned his shirt and held it out to her.

Her entire face flamed red and the blush crept down her chest as she suddenly remembered that she was standing there in just her bra and jeans. She gratefully accepted his shirt, even though the damage had already been done.

She very studiously turned her attention to buttoning the borrowed shirt so she wouldn't stare at Ian's muscular back. She tried hard to keep her crush on him a secret; she had a feeling he knew anyway, but she didn't want to make it obvious to the point of discomfort for them both.

In an attempt to change the subject, she remarked, "You're home early. I was hoping to have the kids clean and nicely dressed so we could have a nice dinner to celebrate your birthday."

"You didn't have to do that."

It was Emily's turn to shrug. "I wanted to."

"Why don't I finish bathing the kids and you can finish whatever else you had in mind," Ian offered.

"You don't have to do that, it's your..."

With a smile, he cut her off, "I want to."

* * *

Emily leaned against the wall outside to Charlotte's bedroom door, eavesdropping. Charlotte had insisted that she wanted Ian to put her to bed that night. Emily's feelings might have been hurt if it weren't easier to wrestle a tiger than get Charlotte down for the night.

And given that they'd let the kids have a piece of cake after dinner, she imagined Ian was in for quite a struggle.

"How old are you turning?" Charlotte's little voice asked.

Instead of answering, Ian asked her, "How old do you think I am?"

Charlotte was quiet for several moments as she thought, then loudly declared, "Seventeen!"

Ian laughed loudly. "Good guess."

"I didn't get you a present," Charlotte said sadly after several more moments of thoughtful silence.

"I don't need any presents, I've got you and Declan, mo stoirín," he told her. Emily couldn't help the smile that blossomed at the term of endearment. He didn't have to treat her daughter with so much love, but he did anyway.

"And Mommy!" Charlotte reminded him.

"Yes, and your Ma." Bedsprings groaned as Ian stood to leave the room. "Time for you to sleep, little one."

"Noooo," she whined, but without her usual fire. "You hafta sing."

"Sing?"

"Please?" Charlotte wheedled.

Emily heard Ian groan. For someone who looked quite intimidating, he was a terrible softie when it came to telling the children no. "Alright, but just one song or your Ma will have my hide."

He made it most of the way through two verses of an old Irish lullaby before the girl nodded off. Emily stood there, secretly listening, wondering how this man could love her little girl so much when her own father had wiped his hands clean of the two of them when Emily had told him she was pregnant.

"Goodnight, little one," Ian murmured softly. Emily could hear him pulling up the covers and flicking on her nightlight, going through the steps to help her sleep through the night.

"Night night, Daddy," a sleepy voice mumbled back.

Emily's heart dropped. Charlotte occasionally called him Daddy in conversation with her and Emily always made sure to correct the girl, but she'd never actually used the moniker to his face. She had no idea how Ian would react.

When he shut the door behind him, Ian looked surprised, perhaps, but not alarmed as Emily had expected. "You heard that?" he asked in a whisper.

She nodded. "I'm so sorry. I think she's just used to hearing me call you that around Declan, but I correct her whenever she does it. She's probably confused. Don't worry, tomorrow I'll talk to her and explain..."

He stopped her rambling with a gentle hand on her arm. "It's okay." He changed the subject, asking, "Did Declan go down easily?"

She nodded. "He didn't nap today. He was in a terrible mood all day, I think he might be teething." She pulled back her sleeve to reveal teeth marks on her arm. "Used me as a chew toy earlier."

It was Ian's turn to appear mortified. "He _bit_ you?"

"He doesn't bite as hard as Lottie," she offered, as if that might make him feel better. "I put him in timeout, but I think the greater punishment was the threat of not getting to help make your birthday cake."

"You really didn't have to do that," he said for probably the fiftieth time that evening.

"You do so much for Lottie and I, it was really the least I could do for you. Even if we'll probably be washing the icing out of your son's hair for a week." She flopped down on the couch, thoroughly worn out from the day.

He sat down next to her and rested a hand gently on her knee so that she'd look at him. "I like having the two of you around. You don't need to feel that it's some great hardship that you need to make restitution for."

"Don't be ridiculous," Emily argued, "You've put a roof over our heads and food in our bellies, of course I'm going to pay you back. Admittedly, it might take awhile, but..."

He cut her off again. "Love, I offered to let you stay with me because I didn't want to see you and your little girl on the street. My mother raised me on her own and I know how hard she had it, without still being a teenager as well."

"But _why_?" she insisted. "My kid used you as a kleenex the first time we met."

"When we first met, Declan sat in your lap like he'd known you his whole life. He didn't even warm up to me as fast as he did you. The woman who gave birth to him didn't want him, but you didn't hesitate a moment when it came to treating him like your own. I never have to worry about him when I'm away because I trust you completely. That's something you don't come across every day, it's far more valuable than rent and a few groceries."

Emily wasn't entirely sure why tears started pricking at the back of her eyes at his words, but she tried to fight them off, embarrassed. These heartfelt confessions really didn't help her crush – she honestly couldn't remember any man who had treated her with such respect and affection since her father had left.

"I honestly didn't expect to ever be able to trust anyone after Declan's mother abandoned us," Ian admitted quietly, "And then you and your little girl came crashing into our lives like you were always meant to be there."

Emily could feel herself blushing furiously at his words and his intense gaze. She couldn't quite meet his stare for fear of revealing too much of herself. "You were the only one who cared what happened to us... My mother, Lottie's father, no one cared but you and you didn't know the first thing about us. Why?"

"Are you familiar with the concept of _Anam Cara_?" he asked. She shook her head. "It's the Celtic concept of soulmates. It literally means 'soul friend'; every soul is connected to someone else's since before time began. Those two souls will always recognize each other, the way you and I connected with barely a glance that first night at Baby 'n' Me."

Her mouth was suddenly very dry as her mind raced ahead of the conversation. Could he really be suggesting what she thought he might be suggesting after she'd spent months pining after him?

"It isn't necessarily romantic," he added, bursting her bubble. He must have seen it flash across her face because he brought a gentle hand to her cheek, fingers rough and weathered from decades of working with his hands in sharp contrast to the smooth softness of her porcelain skin. "I'd never trust something as precious as you to something as fickle as my heart. I owe too much to my son to risk the only mother he's ever had."

She leaned into his touch in spite of herself. He was probably right, she knew that, but at the same time she had a self-destructive history of wanting what she shouldn't. "Every time Charlotte calls you Daddy, I wish I didn't have to tell her no. She deserves someone who loves her the way you do, not a father who wishes she didn't exist and told me as much. She loves you so much."

"I don't care if she calls me Dad," he said, almost intensely, "I don't plan on leaving any time soon." His hand had slid down to her neck now, fingers tickling the sensitive skin along the ridges of her spine. "If that's what she wants – what _you_ want – I'll gladly be that for her."

"But we won't be living here forever," she argued, in spite of the little voice in her head screaming at her to stop before she ruined this. "One day we'll find our footing and you'll want us out of your hair so you and Declan can be a family without us in the way. You've been really kind to let us stay here, but we don't plan on taking advantage of your hospitality and..."

He cut her off, surging forwards to kiss her.

Emily's eyes slammed shut and she forgot how to breathe for so long her lungs burned and spots flashed behind her eyelids. When he pulled away, her hands her clenched in his shirt and he had one hand wound in her hair, her lipstick smeared on his lips and she couldn't remember any of it happening.

"I shouldn't have done that," he admitted, apology in his voice. "I've wanted to, but I don't want you to think that I invited you to stay with me in exchange for sexual favours. If I've crossed a line, I'd understand if you weren't comfortable staying here any longer."

She knew she'd been silent for an uncomfortable amount of time, blinking stupidly, brain sitting idle like an engine that wouldn't turn over. She could tell that Ian was starting to worry that he'd upset her, but try as she might, she couldn't make her voice work.

To her horror, when she finally managed to respond, it was in the form of tears welling in her eyes, making Ian retreat in alarm.

With a growl, she found her voice, quietly cursing herself as she wiped at the tears. "I, um...I'm not really used to people showing affection for me." She tried to form a reassuring smile. She reached out for his hand, shyly linking their fingers and not quite meeting his eyes.

"You're a part of our lives, mine and Declan's. By choice, Love. We both want you here, not because you're some kind of charity case, but because we both care for you. You seem to have trouble seeing your worth, but we don't."

He leaned in to kiss her a second time, stubble scraping across her skin, breath husky and dark like Guinness. She could swear she felt her heartbeat in her teeth, her confidence vanishing the closer he got.

"Don't hurry yourself out of our lives," he whispered, brushing his nose against hers.


End file.
